


Partners

by LGBT_Pancake (RollanWasHere), RollanWasHere



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bottom Bill Cipher, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Gay, Hate to Love, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Oops, Top Dipper Pines, bill is kinda ooc tbh, forgive me Father for I have sinned, i love, partners, probably some smut tbh, smut probably, what would this fandom be without it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9546308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollanWasHere/pseuds/LGBT_Pancake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollanWasHere/pseuds/RollanWasHere
Summary: Dipper flung his pencil at the annoying blonde, trying his damned to get the god-forsaken thing to stop humming. They've been working on this project for three hours now and have got nothing done. His pencil didn't miss and landed straight on Bill's nose. Said blonde glared up at him from where he was laying on the floor."do you mind?" He asked, sarcasm laced in his voice."No not really," Bill said, stretching luxuriously, "carry on"------aka: how the fuCK did Bill and Dipper get stuck together on an English project?!





	1. Bill Fucking Cipher

**Author's Note:**

> I had to re-write the first chapter y'all. I'm probably going to do this for every chapter. It makes them longer and I end up being happier with the outcome.

Dipper tapped the pencil on his desk repeatedly, leaning on his free hand. The science teacher, Mrs. Greening, was droning on and on about the lesson and to be honest, she’s not very interesting. Dipper’s desk partner grabbed the hand with the pencil in it, sending him a glare. Dipper looked the blonde male in the eyes and tapped his pencil again, a smirk threatening his lips.

"Dipper, for fucks sake--" his partner said.

"Dipper, for fucks sake--" Dipper mimicked, forcing his voice to go higher than usual. Bill scowled at him, returning to his notes. Dipper scoffed, rolling his eyes in the most over-exaggerated way he could.

His desk partner, Bill Cipher, was by far the worst human being Dipper had ever met. He was known around the school for being a total dick, a bully. For the most part, he liked to pick on people who were smaller than him in size, like Dipper. Bill was only a year older but surpassed him by one million years in terms of ego. Not to mention his horrible personality. Let's just say that if Bill had the option of either kicking a puppy or pushing a homeless woman in front of a car to stop someone from messing up his hair, he would gladly do both. 

The teacher continued her boring lecture for the next half hour, occasionally calling on people to answer random questions about the lesson. Then the bell rang and a stampede of teenagers left the room, leaving behind Dipper. He shoved loose papers and his science journal into his backpack.

Once his things were gathered, slinging his bag onto his shoulder, he made his way out the door. Only to be tripped on the way out. He managed to catch himself before he face-planted, but that didn't stop all of his things from flying everywhere. He groaned to himself, looking up into the eyes of an evil sadist, who also happened to be his desk partner. 

“Falling for me already, Dipper? You’ve got great taste in men,” Bill said, smirking. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turned around and walked the other way, cackling. Dipper watched as Bill walked past some random freshmen, slammed him into the lockers like that was a common thing to do, and continued walking like it never happened.

Dippers twin, Mabel ran up to him, several of his papers in her hands, pulled him up and shoved those papers into his arms.

"Hurry up, dipdop! We're gonna be late to class!" She said, throwing her arms about wildly. They gathered up his things, shoving his stuff in his navy backpack before sprinting to English. As they stepped through the door to his English class, just barely missing the bell, his teacher gave them a dirty look. Bitch, he thought, scowling at her. 

Unfortunately, Bill also had that class. Most of Dippers classes were with Bill, the only exception being the first period, drama, and second period, history. He also happened to sit next to Bill in most of those classes. 

He took his seat next to Bill, Mabel taking her seat next to Dipper, still scowling to himself. He heard Bill snicker as he dropped his bag onto his desk, several papers sticking out of it in a taunting manner. Dipper grunted to himself, shuffling the papers and such to make it more organized. Once he was, he sat back with a relieved huff. 

After a minute of peace, Bill kicked his desk, his desk rattled from the force, so did his backpack, and Dipper was too slow to catch it from falling on the floor. His papers and textbooks scattered everywhere. Again. He stared at the lost papers, body unmoving. He just stared.

_Oh great,_ he thought, _Awesome. It’s going to be another one of those days, isn’t it?_

He coughed, rubbing his chest to try and placate his heart. He saw Mabel eying him warily from the corner of his eye, and turned to smile at her reassuringly. It didn’t ease her worries. 

The tardy bell rang, and class began. He scrambled to pick up his papers, putting them into his bag and putting that by his desk once he was done. While the class was going, Bill typically didn’t bother him _too_ much, so he wasn’t that worried. Usually, it was just little things in class, like stealing his pencil or writing mean things on his desk, and big things, like verbal and physical abuse, outside of class. 

His English teacher tapped on the board, gaining the classes attention, before calling to open to the first chapter of whatever new book they were reading. He did so, gladly. Reading was one of the few things he enjoyed on a daily basis. He lost his sense of reality for a while, which was always nice. He flipped open the book, smiling at the crisp pages of the newly printed book. He read the first line, but his eyes were caught by a little word written at the top. His lips turned into a frown.

_Ugly_

He scoffed to himself. He covered the word with his finger and kept reading. He flipped the page, eyes immediately rushing to the little corner where the previous word was. Despite how much he passed it off, the words still bothered him.

_Too skinny_

He looked at the page next to it.

_Too quiet_

He flipped page after page, checking the corners of each and every one. Sometimes the words were on a different corner, sometimes hidden amongst the text.

_Strange_  
_Girly_  
_Weak_  
_Faggot_  
_Short_  
_Nuisance_  
_Annoying_  
_Waste_

He slammed the book closed, gasping. His heart hammered in his chest, like a drum being banged on every millisecond. He gripped his shirt, right over where the incessant beat came from. He looked over to Mabel, who was looking at him worriedly. He motioned to the book, glancing around.

No one but Bill was looking at him strangely. Lucky him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to calm down before opening them again. He glared at Bill, knowing it was him who had written those things. Then his glare softened, replaced by tired eyes. 

Mabel traded his book for hers, squeezed his hand and got back to reading. He grabbed the book, slouched in his chair, brought his knees up to his chest, and hoped that the book was easy. Even if it was, he couldn’t really concentrate anyway.

Luckily, the rest of the day passed rather quickly. Once the last bell went off, Dipper ran out of the doors to the classroom, along with all the other students, and pushed to the front entrance to meet with his friends. Trying to rush in a place like a school hallway was never good. He almost got slammed into a locker again.

He almost got tripped, once again by Bill, too but he managed to stay upright this time. He turned to Bill and smirked, flipping him off. Bill smirked at him, returning to the conversation with his friends. Dipper shuddered, feeling like that was some sort of bad omen. He turned around, beginning the walk to the doors once more, eyes never leaving the back of Bill’s head until he got to the door. He caught sight of his group of friends once he was outside and grinned. 

"Hey, guys!" He called, backpack jostling as he ran towards them.

In his little circle, there was Mabel, her girlfriend Pacifica Northwest, who used to be the twins' mortal enemy, and a feisty redhead named Wendy Corduroy, who was also a senior at their school. 

Wendy turned to him, showing a peace sign with a goofy smile. Pacifica nodded to him in acknowledgment, her arm around Mabel's waist. Mabel grinned at him, her cat sweater covered in several colors of glitter that hadn’t been there in English and one hand behind her back.

“Mabel, what the hell happened to your sweater? It’s been like, five minutes,” He asked, eyeing the hand behind her back suspiciously. He looked up at her just fast enough to catch Mabel smiling deviously and then suddenly there was bright fuchsia glitter in his eyes. He yelped.

Laughter greeted his ears as he tried, and failed, to rub the glitter from his eyes. Eventually, he got enough of the bright glitter out of his eyes to open his eyes. 

“Oh god,” He said, eyes widening. “Everything is pink!”

The laughter got louder, especially from his twin and the redhead. Pacifica was more hiding her laughter behind her free hand, the other gripping Mabel’s sweater. Dipper scowled again. Mabel calmed her giggles enough to punch Dipper on the shoulder. He whined, holding the place of injury gently.

“BOP!” she yelled, grinning. “If you frown like that all the time, you’ll get wrinkles at twenty!”

Dipper frowned anyway.

“Wow, Pines, your faggot is showing,” a voice said from behind him. Dipper internally groaned. He turned around to meet his bully, from almost all of his classes, the one, and only Bill fucking Cipher. 

Dipper groaned internally just at the sight of him. This day has been going to shit since this son of a bitch decided to show up in the fourth period. He usually tends to stick to his group of asshole friends in the mornings, leaving the cruel and unnecessary punishment for some time after the fifth period, but today he decided to be a bitch and pick on Dipper a little earlier. He stared up at the taller man with a deadpan stare, the other staring down at him with a smirk. 

“So hey, Dipper, why don’t you come with me?” Bill asked, slinging an arm around Dipper’s shoulders and pulling him close. Too close, almost painfully. “There’s something interesting that my friends and I would like to show you.” Dipper groaned audibly. 

“Why don’t you go shove a dick up your ass, Cipher?” Dipper asked, leaning away from his tormenter. Said tormenter scowled, digging his nails into Dipper’s arm. He winced, ripping his arm out of Bill’s hold. He tried to step back, but Bill caught him again. His bag fell off of his shoulder. Luckily, he had remembered to zip it up before he left class this time.

“Hey,” Wendy said, “quit it you dick. You’re hurting him.” Bill looked up from Dipper with an innocent smile. 

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Wendy. I’m not hurting him. I’m just inviting him to hang.”

“Yeah, well, he’s obviously not going so why don’t you just-

A loud honk interrupted the argument. Dipper and Mabel let out simultaneous sighs of relief. Dipper slipped out of Bill’s hold, grabbing up his things from the ground. He smiled at Wendy in thanks.

He looked over to his grunkle’s old beat up Cadillac Deville, where grunkle Ford was griping at grunkle Stan. Probably for reaching over to the drivers' side when he was in the passenger seat just to honk. He chuckled to himself, watching his twin sister bounce over to the car, throw open the door and throw her stuff into the backseat. She kissed Pacifica on the cheek quickly before jumping into the car and waving to him wildly to hurry up with whatever it was that he was doing. 

Dipper glared up at Bill for as long as he dared one more time before bidding a rather rushed goodbye to the rest of his friends and climbing into the car. The exterior was a gross old red color, faded from the many years of use. The interior of the car wasn’t too well off either, the seats being made of a gross brown colored leather, ripping apart at the seams. There were holes in it from how much the chairs got stabbed. Because that’s normal for this family. 

He sighed to himself, propping his chin on his hand and staring out the window. The passed through the city, right passed Greasy’s Diner, Ye Royal Discount Putt Hutt, the Arcade and right over Gravity Falls Lake. They lived in the country part of town, out in the middle of nowhere. The only public place being the Mystery Shack, where the family resided. 

The Mystery Shack was a tourist attraction. Or rather, a scam. His grunkle Stan found weird items, glued them together and called them a mystery. Everything was overpriced and the building itself was pretty much falling apart. There was nothing amazing about the “Mystery Shack” other than the fact that it was still standing. 

Grunkle Stan turned around in his chair to peer at Dipper, mouth in a thin line. 

“What were you doing with the shitty weasel, Dipper?” He asked. Dipper clenched his teeth, hands forming into fists.

“Nothing,” he said. “Cipher was just being a soggy lettuce, as per usual.”

“Better be nothing,” he said. “Or I might have to cop his wallet off of him. I might do that anyway. And hey, you’re cleaning the glitter out of my car.”

Dipper snorted. He’ll make Mabel do it since it was her fault he was covered in glitter in the first place.

Dipper smiled as they pulled into the Gravity Falls Forests. He liked to explore them from time to time, recording things in his journal. Sometimes, he found something crazy. It was kind of calming to do that. To forget everything for a while and focus on one thing. It was kind of like reading for him in that sense.

The old busted up car pulled up into a dirt driveway, around a wooden building and parked. The Mystery Shack was one of the oldest buildings Dipper had ever seen, and neither of the owners, grunkle Stan and grunkle Ford, felt the need to fix it up to its former...unique glory. 

The wooden walls were molded and brittle. The S on ‘Shack’ in Mystery Shack had fallen off, just lying on the roof. One of the windows was busted through, from grunkle Stan throwing the TV out of the window a few summers ago. Plus, the A-frame type structure and the signs that scream “NO REFUNDS” in big bold red letters weren’t exactly inviting.

Dipper pried open the door to the car, stepping out and staring down at the mound of glitter on the seat where he was just sitting. He was going to have to clean it up sooner or later.

_But not right now_ , he thought. 

He opened the trunk of the old beat up car, ignoring Mabel and the grunkles’ conversation. He reached for his backpack, grabbing up his journal from under some old jackets. He slung the backpack onto his shoulder, closing the trunk. 

“I’m going into the forest!” He called, already making his way to the tree line.

“Just be back before sundown, Dipstick! There’s gonna be reruns of Ducktective on tonight!” Mabel said, smiling goofily. “Reruns! Reruns! Reruns!”  
He laughed, waving to show he heard her, making his way into the deeper foliage. He could still hear her chanting as he walked away from her. 

He clicked his pen, smiling to himself. The forest, in all honesty, was more interesting during the night. But there were some things you could only see during the day. 

The forest swallowed him up whole, pen, journal, really short shorts and all.


	2. Stuck With a Dried Out Sharpie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has too much paranoia and the partners for the English project get assigned.
> 
> whoops.
> 
> I'm not sorry.

Dipper’s eyes fluttered open, forcing his weak body to sit up. The grass under his body was damp, the crickets were chirping, the trees were swaying in the light wind, it smelled like mildew, and the moon was high in the sky. He looked around, finding his journal open to the last used page, and his pencil resting on the inside stitching. He reached for the journal and cringed. His back was damp from sleeping on the grass and it felt gross. 

Once his things were gathered and the initial shock of being wet was gone, he trekked his way back to the shack. He had taken a long path, a narrow road that had once led to something. The road now was only about as wide as him, only that much being left from all the erosion over the years. 

As he walked he took note of the trees, how they swayed, the way they looked, if there were any marks. He took note of one specific tree along the way, a pine tree. It was tall and thick, very old. It had letters, a language he didn’t recognize, carved into the trunk. He traced his fingers along the letters, scratching copies of them onto a page in his journal with his pencil. 

After he was done, since he wasn’t too far from the shack, he jogged back. It wasn’t safe in the forest at night, not that he didn’t go anyway, and he had overstayed his welcome long enough. It wasn’t long before the shack came into view, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out of breath anyway.

He walked up the steps slowly, willing them not to creak. It was obviously late, meaning the grunkles’ and Mabel were already asleep and he wasn’t too fond of waking them up. He made it through the door without any loud noise successfully. 

The door had the living room on one side and stairs on the other. Past the stairs was the kitchen, followed by the door leading to the gift shop part of the shack. Up the stairs was grunkle Stan’s bedroom. Grunkle Ford’s room was in the basement. It was more like a science lab with a bed, honestly. Mabel and Dipper’s room was in the attic, both sharing the space of the rather large room. 

He crept towards the stairs, pausing at the sight of Grunkle Stan watching TV on the old recliner in the living room. He sighed in relief when he heard the telltale snore. He tiptoed up the stairs, ignoring the little squeaks and hoping no one heard. He opened the door to the attic slowly, knowing that it creaked the loudest. It was about halfway open when it let out a wail, Dipper’s hand coming to a quick stop immediately. It wasn’t fast enough, apparently, because Mabel lifted her body from her bed, sitting on her heels. She rubbed her eyes, squinting at him.

“Dipper?” She asked, voice hoarse with sleep. “You’re finally home. What time is it? You missed Ducktective reruns.” Dipper smiled softly, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Don’t worry about that Mabes, just go back to bed. We’ll talk in the morning,” He said, setting his things down on their dresser. She yawned, nodding and falling back onto the bed, passing out at once. 

He changed slowly, exhaustion making his limbs heavy. He slept out in the woods for a good while, two or three hours maybe, but he was still tired. Sleeping on the damp, uncomfortable floor wasn’t exactly his best plan of action. 

He crawled under the covers slowly, yawning. It wasn’t even a minute after climbing into the warm heat of the comforter that he felt the sandman sprinkle dust on him. His eyelids drooped, body relaxing. Then, just as he was about to enter dreamland, something whispered in his ear.

“ **SaVe HiM** ,” it said. 

Dipper’s eyes flew open, breath hitching in his throat. He sat up slowly, heart pounding in his chest, eyes panning the room slowly. Nothing. Just a sleeping twin and emptiness. He breathed out slowly, forcing his heart to calm down. He laid back down slowly. He closed his eyes slowly, after one more glance at the room around him, trying to get back to sleep. 

The floor creaked and his eyes flew open, heart hammering in his chest for the third time just that day. There was no way he was getting back to sleep anytime soon, and it was going to be one hell of a long night.  
\----  
Dipper leaned against Mabel in the crowded, noisy lunchroom and yawned. He vaguely felt someone poke him with a fork to his shoulder but ignored it. He was too tired to even think about thinking, let alone move his body. He hadn’t got much sleep the night before, passing out from exhaustion only five minutes before the alarm went off due to the paranoia that he had felt. 

The fork poked him again, this time on the ear, so he swatted it away, yawning again. He forced his eyes open to meet the eyes of his sister. Mabel puffed out her cheeks, poking his face with the fork over and over again. He could hear Pacifica giggling to herself at her girlfriend's antics in front of him.

“Why didn’t you sleep _this_ time?” She asked, poking a little harder.

“Ow! Ow! Mabel, stop! That hurts! I didn’t get much sleep because I had too much homework to do,” He lied, knowing that she knew he was lying. Dipper knew that Mabel knew what kept him up, but keeping it to himself made him feel more secure. It also prevented any pitying looks the others might send him. He rubbed his shoulder, avoiding eye contact and smiling. He was sure they could tell it was forced.

“So anyway, do you think we’ll get paired on the English project?” He asked, forcing his eyes to meet hers again. Pacifica laughed, throwing an arm around Mabel’s shoulders and smiling.

“No,” she said, playfully. “We don’t have that kind of luck, sweetheart.” Dipper smiled and laughed with her, nodding along in agreement. As long as he didn’t get stuck with Bill the dried out sharpie, it was going to be okay with him. Even if he’s left to do all the work. It would be fine. The teacher knows how much the two don’t get along, so hopefully she wouldn’t be that cruel and pair them.  
\----  
God fucking damn it.

Dipper stared up at the names listed on the board with a face that read pure shock. Of course it had to be this way. He could practically smell the irony of the situation. His shoulders drooped in acceptance of his fate. He was doomed. Doomed to die at the hands of his partner for the English project. His partner was none other than Bill Cipher, the one person Dipper had hoped he wasn’t going to get paired with. 

Mabel bounced over to him with Pacifica at her side. Pacifica looked disgusted like she’d just seen someone throw up onto the corpse of a dead fish. Mabel looked kind of disappointed, but she hadn’t lost her happy aura. 

“Who’d you guys get stuck with?” He asked dryly, picking his shoulders up at an attempt to looking normal.

“Gleeful,” Pacifica hissed, rolling her eyes. Gideon Gleeful wasn’t a bad person per say, he was just kind of strange. There were rumors about that he dabbled in voodoo and witchcraft. Not even Bill would mess with him. Though Dipper was willing to bet the reason for the disgust on her face wasn’t due to that, it was due to the fact that the particular white haired midget had a thing for Mabel a while back. He chuckled at her pain.

“There’s an odd number in this class, apparently, because Lil’ ‘ol me got stuck by herself,” Mabel said, leaning her body weight onto Pacifica. Dipper smiled at them.

“Then you can work with me?” He said, knowing that she was probably going to do it anyway. She nodded, smiling happily. 

“Who’d you get paired with, Dip-dop?” She asked. Just as he was about to answer her, an arm slung itself around his shoulders. He tensed under the mostly unfamiliar but still a little familiar weight. He looked up into the golden eyes of his partner for English and frowned. Bill grinned toothily at him, squeezing Dipper closer to his side. 

“Hey there, Dipper. Looks like we’re stuck together for the next six weeks,” He said, smiling widening. 

Dipper’s frown deepened. It was going to be the longest six weeks of his life if he didn’t end up killing himself by week two.


	3. Night Terrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Bill get assigned as partners and get told the full details of the project. Bill is an asshole, no matter where he is, but it seems that he has a soft spot for a scared and panicking Dipper Pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghhhh ok so it's been forever since I updated and whatever. I lost interest in this ship a while ago, but I was rereading through old unfinished works and found this and found the motivation somewhere in the deep depths of my soul to write this. It's pretty shitty, but once they get to the night terror stuff it gets pretty interesting, in my opinion.

The teacher paced in front of the classroom, seeming pleased with her choices of partners. Dipper was trying very hard to ignore the person beside him, who was sitting much too close, poking him relentlessly. Dipper sent him a seething glare, to which he only got a malicious grin in response. 

“The project,” the teacher said, smiling pleasantly, and Dipper’s eyes snapped to hers. “Is more of a social experiment than an actual English project. I had your parents and guardians sign a consent form for a reason. The idea is that, as you’re researching your assigned topics together and sharing information, you’ll also be sharing a living space.” Immediately, excited and concerned whispers came from her audience, her students. Dipper, however, was sure that he felt his soul leave his body. Bill leaned closer, somehow making Dipper feel even more like his impending doom was in sight, and his grin widened. His voice was like a snake in Dipper’s ear, captivating and dangerous at the same time.

“Hear that, pine tree?” he whispered, and Dipper shivered. “Close company. Looking forward to it.” Dipper, steeling himself with what little courage he had stored away, turned his head to glare at him.

“Good,” he said and relished in the surprised expression he won by saying it. Bill leaned closer, like he was actually interested in what Dipper was going to say next. “Maybe having me in close proximity will teach you some damn _manners_. If just being around me 24/7 doesn’t do it, then I’d be happy to force it into you.” then he flushed. It sounded much more sexual than threatening when he said it out loud, with a stupid husky voice that he couldn’t control at all. Bill’s surprised expression got worse for a second, then it was replaced with something Dipper mistook for _arousal_. Because obviously, Bill wasn’t attracted to him.

“Close company,” Bill repeated, then turned away, scooting his chair away from him a bit. Dipper must be going crazy, after all, since he almost thought that Bill’s cheeks were flushed. He shook his head, then turned back to the teacher. 

“Alright, that’s enough chatter,” She said, waving her hands, and waited for everyone to quiet before continuing. “For the first three weeks, you’ll stay at one of your houses, then the three weeks after that will be spent at the other’s house. At the end of the first three weeks, the person that doesn’t live in that house will write a page on their experience in addition to the project. And at the end of the second three weeks, the other will do the same.”

The idea of Bill coming to stay with Dipper’s family was both amusing and disastrous. Grunkle Stan hated him. It would be funny to see Bill be stood up to by his great uncle, but then again if Bill couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut it could be a potential catastrophe. 

_If he talks too much, just stuff his mouth full,_ his mind supplies, followed by the image of Bill on his knees between his legs, those big blue eyes staring up at him, wet at the edges. Dipper choked on his own spit and coughed into his fist to clear it. He shoved that thought and image from his mind faster than anything else before, refusing to get a hard-on in class because of the image of his bully submitting to him.

“I’ll now be giving out your topics of research,” the teacher said, picking up a hat with little slips of paper in it from her desk. “The paired partners will come up as you’re called to pick a topic from the hat. There will be no take-backs, so don’t ask.” Bill leaned over to Dipper again as the teacher started handing out topics to partners.

“We’re going to my house first. Don’t argue.”  
\----

Bill’s house was bigger than Dipper thought it would be. Cleaner too. He couldn’t see even a speck of dust on the furniture. He kicked off his shoes at the door after watching Bill do it, then watched an older man in a smart tux gather both pairs up and put them in a small cubby. It took him a moment to realize that the man was a butler. Bill was rich.

Like filthy stinking rich. He wasn’t sure why that came as a surprise.

_But of course he is_ , Dipper thought, _The devil wears Prada, after all._ Bill led him up a staircase and down a hall, then into the bedroom. It looked more like it was built for a king, rather than for someone like Bill. There was a big, fluffy-looking bed jammed into the corner. There was even enough room for a dresser, a large flat screen tv on top. He tried to ignore the little flicker of jealousy that curled in his stomach and set his bag down.

“Bill,” he said, and to his surprise, Bill actually looked at him. “I still need clothes for the next three weeks.” His partner hummed, looking thoughtful, then shrugged.

“Not my problem,” he said, then dropped down onto his bed, sighing contently.

“It will be,” Dipper said, walking over to loom over him, just staring, hair falling into his face. “Where am I going to sleep?” Bill hummed, then shrugged.

“On the floor?” he suggested, and Dipper scowled.

“If you don’t plan to work on the project with me, why don’t I just go home? I can stay at the mystery shack like I normally do and write a bullshit paper on how ‘enlightening’ it was to stay with you at the end of the three weeks.”

“Can’t do it that way. Our parents are required to check in and make sure that we are, in fact, working together. Matilda would never let me slack.”

“Matilda?”

“My nanny.”

Dipper huffed, then scowled and turned away. He ignored the nagging in the back of his head that was begging him to ask why Bill’s parents weren’t around. It wasn’t any of his business. He went over to his backpack and pulled out some textbooks, checking his watch. It was only six thirty, and he couldn’t go to sleep until at least nine lest he wakes up early. He had work to do, anyway. 

His phone pinged, so he pulled it from his back pocket to check it. Mabel's contact and a flurry of random emojis accompanying a question of whether or not he was okay. He smiled, opening his phone to respond. There was a creak from the bed behind him, and Dipper didn’t have to look to know Bill had turned over in bed.

“Who is it?” he asked, as Dipper tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Your faggot boyfriend?” Dipper scowled and huffed, then spread some papers around in front of him.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Dipper said, picking up his pencil. “But I don’t have a boyfriend. No, that was my sister.”

“I always figured Shooting Star was too rambunctious to own a cellphone. Like she’d prefer to send letters via carrier pigeons or something,” Bill said, and another squeak on the bed let Dipper know that he rolled over again. He rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, flipping the page in his textbook to get where he needed to be. He wanted to get engulfed in his work, let it suffocate and drown him. He wanted to forget Bill for a while, forget everything. The stress, the anxiety, insomnia. He just wanted to work.

Yes, focusing on work always helped.

\----

Dipper awoke that night with a start, gripping the blanket of the feeble blanket around him. He couldn’t remember what had woken him. He sat up, blinking his eyes free of blurriness to take in his surroundings. He was still on the floor, surrounded by papers and textbooks and school supplies. His phone was set to the side where he could see it and plugged into a charger. He couldn’t remember doing that. The alarm clock on Bill’s nightstand said it was just past one in the morning. He glanced over at Bill. Sleeping. So what had woken him?

He got his answer in the form of the feeling of a cold, ice cold, bony hand creeping up his calf. His breath hitched in his throat, feeling the cold hand slip up, up, up, until it could wrap around his throat. He knew that, even if he could look, there wouldn’t be anything there. There never was. He couldn’t breathe, it was squeezing too hard.

**sAvE hIm** , it whispered, its breath like ice cubes on Dipper’s ear. Tears welled up in his eyes and he made a soft sobbing noise. The hand on his throat disappeared, and he immediately curled up on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head. He trembled, he knew he was, and whimpered. The hand started on his foot, a light touch that made his blood cold, and slowly crept up to his thigh. **SaVe BiLl CiPhEr.** and suddenly the ice-cold hand was between his legs, squeezing. He let out a terrified wail, trying to kick away something that didn’t have a physical form.

He was being shaken, the blanket ripped from him and a warm voice was in his ear. His eyes snapped open, and he lashed out at the closest thing to him. He just barely missed hitting Bill right in the face, who was leaning over him with the most concerned expression Dipper had ever seen on him. 

“Pine tree?” he asked, taking the hand that had nearly punched him in his and holding it gently. His hands were warm, unlike the _thing_. Oddly, when Bill touched him, warmth chased away the chill that seemed a permanent resident in his bones. He relaxed, breathing heavy, hand twitching in Bill’s hold. “Are you alright?”

“Just a nightmare,” Dipper said softly, tired eyes turning on their hands. He took his hand away, but the cold started returning, so he quickly held Bill’s hand again. Properly this time, entwined fingers and everything. Bill frowned but didn’t say anything about the hand holding. God bless him. That might be the only time Dipper had ever been grateful to him.

“It didn’t sound like a normal nightmare,” Bill said, covering Dipper with the small, thin blanket. Dipper smiled, then shuffled a little closer. He didn’t really care about the consequences of this in the morning, he was too tired. Bill was warm, and Bill was safe. That’s all that mattered. He tried snuggling into Bill’s chest, but it just didn’t feel right. “You were screaming and kicking in your sleep.” If his partner thought it weird that they were suddenly cuddling, he didn’t mention it. In the morning, Bill would probably tease him relentlessly. Call him a baby and tell him that he’s pathetic. It was fine. Dipper sighed and sat back, holding their entwined his hands close to his chest.

“Okay,” he said. “Maybe more like night terrors.” Bill frowned, and something in Dipper’s heart whispered that the golden boy should never frown again--not if it meant the squeezing pain in Dipper’s heart and the sudden guilt. He put a frown there, on a usually smiling face. 

“Come to bed,” Bill said softly, shocking Dipper out of his thoughts. At least, to Dipper, those words sounded rather nice. It was surprising how easy it was to imagine those words in a different, more soft and loving, scenario. The warmth in his body spread to his heart, chasing away the brief, confusing guilt from before. “It’s okay, for one night. It’s big enough that we can share. Come to bed.” 

Dipper nodded, because he wasn’t sure that he had the strength to say no at that moment, and then immediately regretted it when Bill let go of his hand to stand up. He stood quickly, on shaky legs, and reached for Bill’s hand again. Bill glanced at him, something akin to confusion on his face, then gently pulled him to the bed. He crawled into the bed, then lifted the covers, offering space for his partner. Dipper climbed into the bed and laid beside him, pressed pretty close.

“Hey, Bill,” Dipper said. “On nights like this--because there are doubtless going to be more--can we just. Pretend it never happened?” Bill opened his mouth to say something, but something on Dipper’s face must have made him stop because he didn’t say anything. “Can we please just...forget it? It’s hard enough to deal with, without teasing and taunting.” After a very long few moments, Bill hummed softly and wrapped his arms around him.

“What happens in this room will stay on this room,” he said, and Dipper melted into him. He wrapped his arms around Bill’s waist and tangled their legs together, then closed his eyes. “Lest the liar die a thousand painful deaths. It’s a deal Pine Tree. Your secret is safe with me.” Strangely, even after dealing with a few years of Bill’s relentless torture, it seemed very believable that Bill was trustworthy when it came to this secret. He could trust him, if just for this one, very important, thing. 

Only once Bill’s breathing returned to slow breaths, asleep, did the words of the _thing_ come back to him. Save him, save Bill Cipher. From what? What could Bill possibly need saving from? What kind of night terrors was he hiding..? He didn’t dwell on it too long. It could wait until the next day. Before he knew it, he was asleep. 

He had a very nice dream. It involved a certain golden-haired individual, smiling softly as they sat up from the shared bed. The sheet dropped from their shoulder, showing off tan skin and lovely, possessive little bite marks all over.

_“Come to bed,”_ they whispered, blue eyes swirling with love and mirth.

Overall, it was a very lovely dream.


End file.
